The Jedi Knight's Tale
by EirienFlower
Summary: Anakin fic written in the style of Chaucer for the Follow Suit challenge on LiveJournal.


**Title**: The (Jedi) Knight's Tale  
**Fandom**: Star Wars  
**Rating**: G  
**Word Count**: 785  
**Summary**: _Swich is the struggle of Anakyn  
To conqur the danger he carrys wythin._

**Notes: **Written in Chaucerian style for the multi-fandom Follow Suit challenge on LJ.

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**The (Jedi) Knight's Tale**

Whilom, ther was dwellynge at Coruscante

A younge Jedi, that was a Padawane,

An he was reckoned a greet prodygee

In the Force, that to menne is a mysterye.

Prentic'd was he to Obi-Wanne,

Highte by mony a greet manne.

His owne name was Anakyn, Skywalker's sonne,

And ne'r was he bested by anyone.

His myght was muche, and eek was he faire,

Yette of his anger he moost needs beware,

For to the Darke Side swich a pathe moost leade,

Ful dreed is swich a fate, indeede.

An it came to passe that the paire were sente

Awaye from theyr Temple at Coruscante

To a worlde thilke laye atte the Outer Rimme

Where the lawe of the Republicke was but dim,

And where a greet enemy, the teryble Sithe

Was thoght to be hiding, massynge forces therewith.

Ful faste hire hyperdryve took them ther

And landed they on that lonly worlde withe care.

Sodeynly they speid a manne,

"Ho, sire," cryed gentil Obi-Wanne,

"What are thou, that roameth heere

In dreed danger of thy lyf, I feere?"

Stape in age was the wondrous manne,

And he seyd to the Jedi and his Padawane,

"That inquire I might put to thee,

For heer is no toun or hostelrye."

"Goode sire, we are come from Coruscante,

The terryble Sithe for to hunte.

Maistowe thou might give us aide,

Tel me, hast thou seen ought that is strange?"

"Gladly wold I help ye, if it were in my power,

For nothyng have I seen, an I wold advise thee to passe over

This lonly worlde," quod the manne. "For whate Sithe wold settel heer

When richer worlds lay ful neer?"

"Ware, Anakyn," seyed Obi-Wanne,

"Ful wikke, I sense, is this wondrous manne."

Thus seyd, the manne becam ful withe rage

"That a povre churl as I, right stape in age

Should be accusyd of wikke deedes!

Nay, thy apolygies I muste needs!"

"Thou are not what thou seemst," said Obi-Wanne,

Lookyng ful close at the angry manne.

"I deem you are oure contrarie.

Thou Sithe! I wil arresten thee!"

The manne eschewed Obi-Wanne's asaille,

And ther began a dreed bataille,

For he was noon but the Sithe lorde, Count Dooku,

That terryble deeds was wont to do

And right ful to the brim was he,

Of wickydnesse and iniquitee.

Dreed was the bataille between thes three,

Til at last the Count swept Obi-Wanne awaye skylfully.

Then the two menne faced each othyr,

Each aimyng to stryke feere into the other.

"Sithe!" cryed Anakyn, "Namo of this,

Or strike thee down I shall, ywis!"

Thanne seith the Sithe, "Nay, Jedi,

'Tis noon I, but thou, that wil erst dewenynge deye!"

Therwithal Anakyn assailled the Sithe's head

His intente to quelle the creeture deed.

Ful grym was he, and the Sithe was affrayed.

Of his terryble drede he soone bewailled,

"Namoore!" was his harrow, "Sweete Jedi!

Would thou mordre a povre wight as I?"

"Ywis," seyed Anakyn, "for swich a feend as thee,

That followeth the Darke Side moost willfully

Cannot be allowyd in lyf, ye muste know."

And that seyd, he lyfted his litsabyr for the blow.

Ful pitous was the Sithe's pleyn,

And he skriked as onne alreedy slein

Til at the laste a crye rang oute,

"Anakyn, what are thou about?"

Greet was the relyf of the feerful Sithe

When he saugh who the voice belongyd withe,

For lightly came gentil Obi-Wanne

Looking soore at his younge Padawane.

Quod he, "What is this wickydnesse

That leadeth thou to swich trespas?"

"Myn Master," seyd Anakyn, "it is but a Sithe,

Oure mercye swich a feend is ywis benethe?"

"Natheless," quod the greet Jedi Knighte,

"That doth not make swich an acte aright.

It is ageenst the Code that we

Shal taak the lyf of onne as he.

To Coruscante swich a prisouner muste go,

As wel, myn Padawane, thou should knowe."

At this younge Anakyn let down his sabyr,

But the Sithe hadde in him yet a begylyng caper:

Ful faste leapt he, away for to yronne,

And with the powr of the Force soone was he gone.

"Myn Master!" cryed Anakyn, "If thou hadde let me as I wolde

Swich an eville wold have been conqur'd for goode!"

"That Dooku has eschewed us I am right sadde,

But that I stopped thee maaks me ful gladde.

Such an acte to the Darke Side leeds,

To control thy rage thou must needs!"

"Ful sorry I am for my acte, myn Master."

Thogh he thoght to next time acte moor faster.

Swich is the struggle of Anakyn

To conqur the danger he carrys within.

Yet tis for others, not for me,

To tell moor of Anakyn Skywalker's tragedie.

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**A/N:** Feedback much appreciated. 


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